Picture...


Authored by authenticity, the papyrus hides in shades of grey
And now the blues die and the once blossoming reds fade away



I was made this way: tone def from every common note
All because the withered brush couldn’t deliver a proper stroke
So now I’ve got a white sheet to hide me as I’m a tragedy
But still I wait for the day I’m unveiled and crowned a masterpiece
...I waited and waited, being encircled by looming vultures
But was finally greeted by a whimpering sky that boomed with thunder
Its harsh winds smudged the colour ‘til there was no hope to dry
As an intimidating rain precipitated from the broken skies
There was no sunshine, no shelter to stow me away
Just clouds whose silhouette made me grow cold and decay
The once beautiful hues faded with no struggle or fuss
Blistering the canvas ‘til there was nothing but a puddle of mud
And when my artist found me, he couldn’t even think or react
All he saw was his dreams of a masterpiece sink through the cracks...
...Of the canvas, and the broken rooftop that had dwindled his talents
But he couldn’t stay like this, so he picked up the palette
Then grabbed the blotched pastels he had dug from the dirt
And placed the canvas against the wall with his feet in the Earth
He hated unfinished business, so he suffered in hurt
But no matter his disappointment, he still published this work
...At the unveiling of his art, I was set on a board onstage
The once white sheet hiding me was now red from the core of pain
My artist’s forehead poured with shame as he got on his seat
Then I was unveiled, and everyone burst into laughter at the mockery...
...Displayed before them, and feeling blinded from the light’s rays
I was now in the public’s eye, gripping the heat from its bright flame
The room grew colder and I must bare the screams it brings
As the papyruses kneaded strings unfolded from the heated ink
I panicked, beads of sweat fell and softly I prayed...
...That the Heaven’s would open with rain and wash me away
So my life as an art form is over, I’m forced to be traipsing this land
And I - the artist’s lifetime work entitled “The creation of man” -
Was a catastrophe, a waste of the artist’s talent and nothing more
So God, I think it’s time you go back to the drawing board...

Because man was a failure.


...Perfect

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I'd copy and paste my reply from RnR, but that would be pointless.
This is one of the best pieces I've read in ages, flawless flow, beautiful wordplay and the whole concept/metaphor/orgasm was just fucking wicked.



That is really good imagery.
Amazing piece dude.

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Life isn't a bitch...
she's just sick of being personified -Sage Francis

What's your name on RNR?

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It takes at least two reads to really grasp the scope in this piece...well done though... i see a lot of care in the craft... You should try making some intrinsic metaphors go deeper... im just not sure if the weather, and thus nature, is the culprit of man's imperfection or just a vehicle for imagery... I mostly unsure because I feel like im lead to believe the Artist/God figure is the one failing the Painting/Man... How does the Rain with in?

keep doin what you're doin

{Peace}

Jax

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Life isn't a bitch...
she's just sick of being personified -Sage Francis

^ Haha, word.

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Ayo dunny this ish was MADDD NICE... it took me like three reads to get the whole ish... but mean imaginary was out there... i mean really... i don't know... this was nice... couldn't get iller lol yes it could.. flow was there... everything.... good ish

Peep my ~A Bullet for yo thoughts~

Caesar - on3

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~Sitting In Elevation Position~


Free
Agent

Just A Sick Newbie

Murked - Lust

Lost - None

dope
alway dropping goodness..
and this piece was ill..
the whole piece showcased your talent and hit a chord with my brains thinking process
the references to the canvas etc were nice as hell
i take it the verse was a metaphor for the life of the person

'The room grew colder and I must bare the screams it brings
As the papyruses kneaded strings unfolded from the heated ink
I panicked, beads of sweat fell and softly I prayed...
...That the Heaven’s would open with rain and wash me away
^ill..feeling that


'The once beautiful hues faded with no struggle or fuss
Blistering the canvas ‘til there was nothing but a puddle of mud
And when my artist found me, he couldn’t even think or react
All he saw was his dreams of a masterpiece sink through the cracks...
^that also

the long bar scheme was masterfully used..
props BK

please reply to my Anopheles piece..
slept on
appreciate it

Bounce.

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